


when you kill the lights (and kiss my eyes)

by blanxkey



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: M/M, eliott's video store, it's all that clip's fault, so much sappiness it might drown you, you know which one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanxkey/pseuds/blanxkey
Summary: it isn’t his first time —or the second, or the fifth— here, eliott’s first workspace; a place that meets him every evening, watches him into the tender hours of the night.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 14
Kudos: 113





	when you kill the lights (and kiss my eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> title from hozier's to be alone.
> 
> unbeta'ed.

soft lights—nebulous pinks and blues. a surreal bubble of time stuck in its swiftly moving current. here, in this setting, it slows down. he almost feels out of place.

his eyes wander around the store. it isn’t his first time —or the second, or the fifth— here, eliott’s first workspace; a place that meets him every evening, watches him into the tender hours of the night. the days drag on, flow on, the nights find him here too, tucked in eliott’s space, on the verge of something changing and yet unchanged—a milieu of paradoxes. lucas often stops to look at the racks in the far right corner, the dvds that present little glimpses of eliott away from lucas, that are so blatantly him it lights him up from inside, this passion that eliott clearly feels for his work. it drips all over this place, eliott brings it home, too—in their living room and bedroom; treacle thick and hard to miss if someone is really looking.

lucas is, though. he’s always looking.

“you do this every time,” eliott says. lucas keeps his eyes on him, quiet as eliott shuffles closer, on the shift of light reflected in his eyes. it trickles molten silver there and then cotton candy colors all over him, and unsurprisingly, eliott looks like he belongs.

syllables burning in his throat, lucas just shrugs. he thinks about all these parts of eliott he’s yet to unearth, the parts he’s kept private, and in settings like these everything turns watery. slips quietly from his grasp. how to say, _i’m always hungry to know more of you_ , when he’s just realized it himself? 

“come on, then.” eliott curls a hand around his wrist and tugs him close. there’s affection underlying his words, like maybe he understands, and his warmth encloses lucas all over, settles behind his ribcage. he keeps it close. his hand finds eliott’s, soft, fingers twined, squeezing, and eliott says, “i remember i promised you a movie. is there something you’d like to see?”

the words fall oddly between them, now, when lucas knows that at any given moment there are at least six possible options eliott is adamant to make him watch. “what,” he snorts, “no more pretentious movies to bore the hell out of me?”

it’s with a gentle touch that eliott brings him to the counter, and they squeeze in through the small space to the backside. “no,” he shrugs, “it’s your choice, tonight.” notion simple, he slides an arm around lucas’ waist, pulls him _closer_.

lucas kisses the hollow of his collarbone through his shirt. “surprise me,” and he means it.

eliott smiles, and then he kisses him slow, the edge of the counter digging into his backside as eliott tilts his face. eliott’s hands never leave his face, and the touch heats up his skin, sings to every part of his soul. eliott pulls away to bounce over to the rack lucas was perusing just moments ago, retrieves a dvd and sets it up for them. lucas sits down on the bench he’s procured and watches on, and the walls around them stare back at him accusingly.

he blinks, and suddenly eliott’s by his side, holding the case toward him. lucas looks down, colors too bright. _Up_. it’s an animation of sorts. he’s seen the posters before, but never got around to watching the movie.

“another oscar lynchpin,” eliott announces, proudly, settling beside him.

the words are echoes of the ones he’s said before, once when eliott played him moonlight. most of eliott’s movies fall along those lines, at least the ones he analyzes and relays the synopsis to lucas, and lucas takes the shit out too many times, his sentences silly, too playful to wound. but he likes the way eliott’s voice turns almost nostalgic, eyes wide and translucent with the glow inside them, absolutely breathtaking, and he drinks it all in.

“get on with it, then,” he prompts.

he keeps his attention on the screen, most of the time, and cries a bit when the whole montage of carl and ellie plays, but he thinks it’s a nice movie. when he cuts his eyes to eliott he can definitely see why he picked it. eliott doesn’t look back, like maybe he’s forgot that lucas might be looking at him, that anyone might be looking at him. something about it – about the way eliott gets in moments like these, face placid, though a smile plays at the corner of his mouth – it settles something deep at the base of lucas’ throat. he has to look away.

midway between the movie eliott gets his arm around his shoulders and lucas melts further in his hold, breathing him in. _i love you_. “you’re not watching,” eliott murmurs, smile in place, low against the sound around them.

“i am.”

he looks at him. “that’s your thinking face, i know.”

“i—okay. i’m just—” lucas sucks in a breath, suddenly feeling out of depth, eliott leaning close enough that his hair tickles the side of his face, his smell gets everywhere. “—thinking,” he finishes lamely.

a gentle smile stretches across eliott’s face, and it crawls up his chest all shivery (it makes him feel like falling—). “i am, too,” he admits, “it’s just the kind of movie that gets you thinking, you know?”

“about?”

“the future, and stuff.” he shrugs. “it’d be nice, no?”

the thing is, lucas knows. he does. he doubts and plunges himself into a void of insecurity and terror and it’s hard to stop, sometimes, but he knows. he’s known his fears and now he knows eliott, a bright star in lucas’ little galaxy, his and only his to keep.

(—it makes him feel like falling) but lucas has already fallen, too fast and too hard.

he fists the hem of eliott’s shirt and just doesn’t speak for a few moments. the movie plays on forgotten and its sounds disappear into the nighttime, perhaps merging with the soundtrack of stars blinking improbably against a navy blue sky. vocabulary fails him so he takes eliott’s hand in his and watches the different hues play across the skin; purple and blue and the colors of sunset.

he finally raises his head and says, “i just think that you’re a sap.” eliott scoffs, but his smile doesn’t dim, and he curls his other hand around the hair against his nape and kisses him, and his lips are soft and he tastes sweet, and lucas kisses him back with a heart so full of warmth it burns.

“well, my lucas,” the words are ghosts of breath on his face, fingers squeeze around his hand like a tether to this world, “i think that you are, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> aaahhhh thank you for reading my crap. comments and kudos are really appreciated. or if you'd like, come say hi to me on tumblr ([ @blanxkey ](https://blanxkey.tumblr.com/))!!


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